Despite my best efforts, it’s gotten ugly.
I moved out as fast as I possibly could, into a temporary apartment with the minimal furniture and items I need to work and sustain myself and my two cats (I don’t even have a bed; I sleep on the floor). Infact, I moved out more than 2 weeks ahead of the date I expected to leave. Once in my own place I thought, “out of sight, out of mind,” and we could both move on with our lives. I was wrong, of course.
I’ve been taking her complaints and criticism without defending myself because I wanted to keep it from getting ugly, and because I don’t need to rehash everything for closure. I’m a turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy, particularly when there’s really nothing to be gained by arguing back. And, my life is going all right since moving out. Not great, not horrible, but doing all right. I’ve met some ladies, made some friends, gone to work, visited with my kids, and enjoyed me time. Yet no matter how much I try to avoid conflict with Strawberry Blonde, she seems hellbent on bringing it to my door—literally, to my apartment door.
Dammit.
I worry that, no matter how hard I—and hopefully she as well—try to keep the kids out of the middle of it, they’ll wind up hurt.
I just want to move on with my life and let her lay in the bed she made while I lay in mine. Why does it have to be ugly?
